God spoke: “Let us make human beings in our image, make them
    reflecting our nature
So they can be responsible for the fish in the sea,
    the birds in the air, the cattle,
And, yes, Earth itself,
    and every animal that moves on the face of Earth.” – Genesis 1:26

One of my credos as a writer is that inspiration is there to be found every day, we just have to make sure that our eyes – and our hearts and our minds – are open to see it and to receive it.

So it is no surprise that, even though it was well after ten o’clock, Monday evening offered me something beautiful enough to share in this space.

It was late, and Max and I were heading back from the Town Common on our evening walk when we spotted a dark figure hurry out onto the sidewalk at St. John and St. Patrick. We were turning that way too so we couldn’t help but track his movements.

It was dark, but I could tell the man was only wearing shorts and possibly barefoot; he appeared to be intent on some kind of a mission. Every now and then he would stop for a moment and look around, peering into the night as if listening.

Curious, I turned down St. David. There he was, vaguely silhouetted against the streetlight under the dark canopy of live oaks. Pause, listen… hurry. Pause, listen… repeat.

Max and I continued, lost him for a moment, then noticed a movement turning onto Church St. where he paused again, listening, before getting down on his knees on the street just off the intersection with St. David.

What on Earth?!! Now I was completely engrossed. He seemed to wrestle with something heavy on the ground (it was an iron grate) before suddenly leaning down and forward into the inky darkness. His entire head and torso disappeared and then – before I had the chance to react – he reappeared with something large in his arms.

Again, “What on Earth?!!!” The man climbed to his feet and I could see he was struggling to hold something larger than a small dog and very much alive.

• Me: “What have you got there?” I ventured. At the same time realizing he was holding a fawn.
• Him: “It was crying out,” the man explained.
• Me: “You heard it from your house?” I asked.
• Him: “And his mama,” he responded.
• Me: “So you ran down the street trying to find the fawn in distress?” I said, incredulous.
• Him: “Yes.”
• Me: “And his mama is close by?”
• Him: “Right in this garden,” he pointed behind us into a dark bushy void.
• Me: “You are a real hero!” I exclaimed. “I mean that. What’s your name?”
• Him: “Charlie.” At least I think that’s what he said.
• Me: “Great to meet you. I’m Derek. And you really are a hero. But I’m going to take my dog away now in case he’s upsetting the fawn’s mother. Goodnight.”
• Charlie: “Goodnight.”

Wow. What a purposeful, compassionate act of quiet heroism. An animal in distress, tumbled somehow into a drainage culvert, rescued by someone willing to do something to relieve an animal’s suffering.

Who knows what else may have been down there. But Charlie simply responded to an animal in need.

POST SCRIPT: Yesterday my neighbor Debbie told me she had heard a mama deer crying out when she left her house around 5:30 Monday morning. “They call to let their baby know they are nearby,” she said, “even when they can’t do anything to help them. They won’t leave. But I hear someone found it.”

“Not till late Monday night,” I said. “I actually witnessed the rescue!”

Later she confirmed it was indeed “Charlie,” and managed to find – through another friend – this photograph. The fawn apparently was reunited with its mother and this story has a happy ending.

Thanks, Charlie. You really are a hero – DEREK